He remembers the first time She told Him He would never manage to part the lovers He’s watching now. He had been angry at the time and had snapped that He realized how tenacious their bond was but it could still be broken. Now, decades later, He’s pleased to admit, even if not aloud, that He was wrong. Even death had not broken the soul mates apart.

He senses Aphrodite’s approach. Without raising His dark head, He murmurs, “Even in death, she never left her.”

“She always promised she wouldn’t,” Aphrodite replies, wrapping Her arms around Her cherished brother from behind. She places a kiss on His neck before gazing over His muscular shoulder at the two souls now rising, only one of whom is leaving behind a body. “Not everything begins and ends with war, brother.”

“No,” He acknowledges, “and love has always been a quick way to drive men to fight.”

“Or women.”

He smirks. “Yeah. Or women. Do you think they’ll get the peace they deserve now?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know,” She says, flimsy, pink lace sliding off of Her shoulders, “but what I do believe is that We’ll get to watch over them for millennia, and whatever happens, they’ll keep coming back to each other.” She gazes sideways at Him. “That’s what soul mates do.”

He smiles. “And they,” He acknowledges, “were definitely soul mates.” And inspiring to the rest of them, He thinks, turning to take His sister, and His lover, into His arms.